This Might Hurt
by joerobwrites
Summary: The citizens of Beacon Hills thought that the Kanima Incident was as bad as things could get. It turns out those were just "tryouts".


Jackson used to _hate _Beacon Hills Preserve.

It was all because of the stupid camping trip that his adoptive parents forced him to tag along on after the 5th grade. The Whittemores wanted to bond with their son. Jackson just wanted to focus on becoming the first 6th grader to start on the middle school lacrosse team.

His temper tantrums failed though, and Jackson found himself scrounging for firewood when there was a perfectly good stove (or a 5 star restaurant) just miles away. While losing himself to brooding thoughts, Jackson quite literally got lost.

He wasn't found again for 48 hours.

What happened during those nightmarish two days didn't matter, at least not anymore. Jackson was finally a werewolf, and he was enjoying his first full moon. Unlike that toolbag McCall, Jackson had complete control of himself. He reveled in being able to see for miles in every direction. He expertly ducked and dodged over and under fallen limbs. His senior lacrosse campaign was going to be a breeze.

Well, at least once he figured out how to come back to Beacon Hills High after seemingly being dead. _Another problem, thanks to Scott McCall_, Jackson thought to himself. Then he froze. Was he recalling Scott's scent because he was thinking about him, or was this punk actually in the forrest? Jackson turned his head west, towards the Hale house, and then east towards town. Sure enough, Scott was here, close to the edge of the cliff that overlooked the city.

_Perfect. _Jackson could now go toe to toe with Scott and prove once and for all that he was the superior werewolf, the superior man. Did Scott even have full control of his abilities yet, 9 months in? Jackson didn't think so. Even though Stiles was on a hero worship tirade with Scott since the Kanima Incident (and Jackson never got to hear the end of it since Lydia insisted on including him in their group over the summer), Jackson still got the vibe that Scott wasn't completely OK with his condition.

At any rate, he probably wasn't anywhere at the level that Jackson currently was. Dropping to all fours, Jackson began to run towards town, his blue eyes the only thing visible in the night. He was at the cliff within minutes, and saw Scott sitting alone on a rock. It didn't escape Jackson that this was where he was temporarily held captive while his classmates discussed whether or not to murder him.

"McCall!" Jackson yelled, "Waiting for me?"

Scott, oddly enough, was not in his wolf form, and turned to gaze at Jackson with a morose look on his face. "Not unless you happened to give Allison a ride here." He stated simply.

Jackson chuckled to himself, a bit of a growl sneaking its way into the action. "She broke up with you months ago, what reason does she have to come and see you?"

"Whatever," Scott said, standing as if deciding that Jackson was right, "you wouldn't understand." As Scott tried to walk past Jackson grabbed him by the shoulder. Hard. "Woah there _buddy_. You and I have a score to settle."

"I don't care about a stupid lacrosse rivalry." Scott said. "There are more important things."

"This is about more than lacrosse," Jackson replied "you tried to take my identity away from me, and I can't allow that." As Scott's brow furrowed Jackson decided to drop all pretense and threw McCall to the ground while he was still unaware. The advantage didn't last long though, as Scott's eyes were golden when his head snapped back up.

The fight that followed was quick. It turned out that Jackson was right, he was head and shoulders above McCall in terms of ability. As punches and kicks landed with an almost alarming amount of frequency, Jackson's blood began to boil. He was seeing red, more than what his werewolf vision normally blessed him with. In seconds he had Scott pinned to the ground, claws at his throat.

"Are you really going to do this to a pack mate Jackson? To family? I saved your life!" Scott said.

"No," Jackson sneered "you're not the hero of this story McCall. You don't even get to be the sidekick." With that, Jackson raised his hand, and prepared to deliver a death blow.

Today was not a good day for Allison Argent. She had overslept, and would have to put off school shopping for another day. Her hair was an absolute mess. Her car was almost out of gas, and to top it all off her entire body was sore from the previous night's training session. This bothered her more than anything else, because she hated the nagging feeling that she couldn't handle her father's workouts. She was a huntress after all, the new leader of the Argent family. If she wasn't stronger than the rest, who would listen to her?

Regardless of how crappy she was feeling, Allison has an appointment that she had no intention of missing. Ever since the night her grandfather disappeared (she refused to remember anything else from that night, like how she almost killed a classmate, her boyfriend, and the local alpha) Allison had been religiously seeing the school counselor, Mrs. Morrell. Allison was tired of not being in charge of her own mind, and had no problem seeking help.

Speaking with Ms. Morrell every Friday also gave Allison the added benefit of occasionally picking up intel on what the Beacon Hills werewolves were up to. The vet and Morrell were connected in some way, and seemed to be in cahoots with the werewolves. Well, Deaton was at least. Allison really couldn't tell with Ms. Morrell.

Allison pulled into a space at the front of the empty school parking lot, and wandered down the deserted halls to the guidance office. Morrell insisted on having their sessions at the school so that any supernatural talk was not overheard by parties that would be better kept in the dark.

"Good morning." Morrell said without looking up from a notepad she was writing on. "Right on time as usual, Allison."

Allison gave a small smile that she was sure Morrell didn't see and took her normal seat in front of the desk. Ms. Morrell continued writing for a few minutes, leaving the room in a comfortable silence. Finally, Morrell put the notepad in a drawer and looked up. "Jeeze, Allison. You look like a mess this morning. Did you sleep well?" She asked.

"N-no." Allison said, already embarrassed. "I've been having nightmares again." Mrs. Morrell looked concerned. "About the night in the warehouse?" Morrell asked. "Not specifically." Allison said, clinging to the hope that the evasive answer would be enough.

It wasn't. "About your grandfather?" Morrell asked. Allison shook her head. "Scott?" Allison blushed. "No. Definitely not about him." Morrell gave her a look that seemed to say _I know you wish it was about him_ before returning to the topic at hand.

"Was it the dream with your mother again?" Morrell asked looking concern. Allison looked down, scuffled her foot on the tile floor, and gave a small nod. "It's been repeating itself more and more. Sometimes more than once a night. I can never sleep afterwards."

"Have you tried working yourself to exhaustion like we said, making it easier for you to sleep?" Morrell asked. "Yes," Allison replied, "but it's not enough." Morrell nodded in understanding. "How about the exercises I outlined to reinforce positive memories. Have you been doing them?" Allison immediately looked guilty. "I still haven't been able to bring myself to look at pictures of her."

"You have to at least put in the effort if you want this to work, Allison." Morrell said. "I can give you direction, but only you can make yourself into the person that you want to be." Allison knew that Morrell was right; but she still disliked hearing that. She always hated hearing that she hadn't done absolutely everything that she could, either for herself or for others. It reminded her that if she had put in more effort, been more aware, she might have been able to protect her mother. "I'll try. Tonight, I promise." Allison said.

"Good." Morrell replied. "Is there anything else that you want to talk about?" Allison shook her head. "Then let's end today's session a little early. You look like you need rest." Allison grinned and quickly stood up. "Definitely, at least after I go school shopping. Thanks Ms. Morrell!"

"Speaking of school," Morrell said as Allison reached the door, "it starts next week. You should probably talk to Scott soon. He gave you your space all summer, and you won't be able to avoid him all year."

"Did he ask you to say that, or is it your 'expert opinion'?" Allison asked with a raised eyebrow. Morrell threw her hands up and said "purely a professional opinion. I would never jeopardize a student's counseling like that. Even if you decide to just be friends, rebuilding that bridge will be healthy for you, Allison."

"I'll think about it." Allison said with a small grin, closing the door behind her.

Jackson woke up, and immediately knew that something was wrong. He was not in his bed.

Not wanting to open his eyes to see what had happened, Jackson began to feel around with his hands. There were leaves everywhere. _Great, _he thought, _ did I sleepwalk outside or something?_ He had heard that Scott had done the same thing around the time of his first transformation; but that had probably been because Peter the crazy alpha had called him out. Did Derek call Jackson out? It seemed unlikely. So why was he here?

The answer hit him like a freight train, and his eyes flew open. Last night had been his first full moon. He had encountered Scott, and they had fought. The last thing Jackson remembered was having Scott pinned by the throat and...and..._killing him_.

Jackson looked down, and sure enough his hands were covered in blood. He quickly turned his head left, right, expecting to find a body. There was nothing there, no sign of the evil deed that he was sure that he had committed. Jackson hated McCall, but was he really capable of murder? He felt sick to his stomach, and brought himself to his knees so he could hurl.

When the contents of his stomach were emptied, Jackson pulled himself to his feet and began to ran home. He didn't care that he was only wearing his underwear (he looked good anyways), his thoughts were solely on how he would first check to see if Scott was alive and how he would escape the city if it turned out that he wasn't. He'd have to take the SUV, using the fake plates that Danny had procured for him. The Porsche was just too flashy.

Jackson didn't even realize that he had reached his house while he was lost in his thoughts, and was hardly surprised to see that the back door had been left open. _It's probably how I got out last night_ he thought to himself.

What was surprising to Jackson was that the door frame was covered in blood. Something was wrong here. Very wrong. Forcing himself to walk towards the house, Jackson wondered if he had brought Scott's body here, and then gone back out to hunt some more. Whatever happened, it just didn't seem right. He had control last night.

Jackson gasped as he entered the kitchen. Scott McCall's body wasn't waiting there for him; but his adoptive parents' lifeless corpses were. Jackson couldn't bring himself to move from the doorway, he just stared and wondered if he was the one that did this.

Suddenly, there was an arm around his throat. A feminine voice said "Looks like you've been a bad boy, Jackson." Before he could even begin to resist he was hit in the back of the head and everything went dark.


End file.
